


Shadows of self

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Angst, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Shapeshifting, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: For the Mag7Week prompt: DowntimeGoodnight Robicheaux is a shapeshifter who can’t shift back into a human anymore. He meets Billy Rocks and slowly start to heal.Or: the one where the confederate army had some improbable tech/magic/something and managed to create shapeshifters and Goody is a bit of a messed up puppy because of this. But fortunately he meets Billy.





	Shadows of self

**Author's Note:**

> This fic barely fits the prompt. I had the idea when I only had three prompts left to fill, and since it does sort of fit the "recovery" suggestion in the prompt description I went for it.

A heavy boot kicked him hard in the stomach, and he gasped behind the arms he had thrown over his head. Another boot hit his back, and then more and more kicks kept coming.

“Rebel scum,” A voice snarled. Followed by other voices hissing, “Freak.”

“Monster.”

The war being over didn’t matter to them, not when it came to men like him, it could never be over.

Goodnight groaned from the pain, and tried to curl up into an even smaller ball to try and protect himself. If he could just focus. Could get a second to concentrate then he could shift, but the pain was the most pressing in his mind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Abomination,” the first voice snarled. He was interrupted by a roar, and then Goodnight was aware of a large presence landing on soft paws in front of him. He moved his arms enough to see a large black panther standing next to him, growling.

The men around him took a few steps back, enough distance, enough of a break for Goodnight to reach out in his mind. Letting his thoughts curl around the image of a wolf, and letting his body relax into the shift.Thankful it didn’t require much effort, once he could concentrate and let it happen. He didn’t know how exactly it worked, none of them really knew what had been done to them.

The shift was almost instantaneous, and he rose in the shape of a large gunmetal-grey wolf, proving their words to be true, the monster here was him.

The black panther next to him started to run between two of the men and Goodnight followed. Having nowhere else to go, and his sense of self preservation kicking in, telling him anywhere but here would be better.

They ran for as long as they could before they stopped and the panther started to shift. Slowly, oh so slowly, and before he had even finished shifting Goodnight knew he couldn’t be from the group of subjects he had been in. Tucking his tail between his legs he backed a few steps. Goodnight could see every stage of the shift, and it seemed to pain the man the way his bones twisted and changed - none of which happened when Goodnight shifted.

He had only found out about the experiments after the fact, and at around that time had realized he was on the wrong side, but at that point it had already been too late for him to walk away.

He should have realized that they had experimented a lot to perfect the serum, before using it on their own soldiers. Goodnight had already made a name for himself as a talented sharpshooter, of course they weren’t going to inject him with something completely untested. He and the four other men were none the less a last ditch weapon, Goodnight only saw three months of action after the injection before the war was lost. 

Once he was injected he found out about the many slaves, the captured runaways,and the kidnapped black men and women who had been part of the experiment, some had even managed to escape and join the union. Goodnight remembered fighting a bear, towards the very end of the war.

The black man who sat up now in front of Goodnight looked over at him expectant. Goodnight closed his eyes and focused his mind on the familiar image of himself. Himself as human. He almost started to shift when excruciating pain shot through his body, and a cold hand of fear squeezed his heart. He gasped and whimpered out loud, curling up on the ground he found the image of a dog in his mind and shifted into that instead, making himself as small as possible, as the waves of pain started to calm down.

A hand came down on his back, and Goodnight scrambled away, mind racing, and he barked.

“It’s alright,” the man who had saved him said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Goodnight eyed him suspiciously, but he didn’t come any closer.

“I’m Sam. You are one of them aren’t you?” Sam asked.

“The confederate soldiers they changed?”

It had been in the papers, their pictures, their names. A last desperate attempt to turn the war into their favor again. Turning their own men into monsters. And now if anyone figured out who he was they would look at him wary, and worried that anything could unleash the beast he had been turned into.

He tried to shift again, back into human, but the wave of pain happened again, and he felt so scared, his heart beat rapidly and he wanted to curl up in a ball and just die to make it go away.

He lay there panting until he had collected himself again, Sam just waited patiently, until Goodnight looked at him again.

“You’re welcome to come with me if you want,”Sam said, before he started to shift. A pained look on his face as his limbs started twisting, loud cracking noises filled the air. A long minute later the panther took off again. Following his example Goodnight shifted into a panther as well and followed.

They ran for a bit in the direction they had first come from, and Goodnight held back a little bit until Sam took a left, and ran towards a couple of trees. Several feet from the trees Sam shifted back into human again. Goodnight shifted into a cat and followed him.

There were limits to what they could shift into. They couldn’t shift into a mouse and hide in a hole somewhere, nor could they shift into a bird and fly away. In fact they were supposed to only be able to shift into large predators, wolves, bears, various big cats. But there was a loophole and as long as he shifted into a wolf first he could then shift into a dog, likewise if he shifted into a panther or a tiger he could shift into a house cat. 

As a grey cat with white stripes and a white spot on his chest, he followed Sam into the clearing where a horse was tied up. Sam rummaged around in the bag, pulling out clothes which he started to put on. Once he was dressed all in black, he rummaged around in the bag again, and Goodnight feeling curious stepped closer and saw him pull out a ripped out page from a newspaper.

“Don’t know why I kept it,” Sam said. “But it was the best, only, explanation for what they did to me,” bitterness heavy in his voice, he crouched down on the ground and looked at Goodnight.

“Alright, so you’re going to be one of the five soldiers they wrote about in this article.” Goodnight sat down facing him, knowing what article Sam was holding, and looking down at.

“Jacob Smith?” Sam asked. Jacob had gone feral the first time he shifted in battle. Had turned into a lion and just attacked everyone nearby, regardless of which side they were on. Goodnight still didn’t know if it was a union bullet or one of their own that had put him down in the end.

“Guess not,” Sam said, when Goodnight didn’t do anything. “Steven James?” It had taken a long time before any of them had realized how unpredictable Steven had become. He did only attack union soldiers, but he would do so with glee and would rush into battle before being ordered to. He would ambush union soldiers just for fun, and Goodnight was sure there were a lot of bodies that bore Steven’s name, but which had never been attributed to him.

Jacob and Steven were probably the main reason they were all seen as monsters.

“Elliot Stone,” Sam asked. Elliot had been a decent guy, but disappeared during one battle in a forest, presumed dead.

“Travis Roach?” 

Travis had waited until the end of the war before he disappeared.

“Goodnight Robicheaux?”

Goodnight meowed and licked one of his paws. The thing about shifting into animals, was that while he stayed human in his mind, there were a lot of subconscious little things about the animal in question, little actions, that were very much just reflexes that Goodnight couldn’t resist, such as grooming himself whenever he was in the shape of a cat.

“Alright Goodnight, nice to meet you.”

Goodnight meowed again.

He travelled with Sam for a while, trotting alongside his horse in the shape of a dog. One time he shifted into a cat and rode in one of the bags, but it was a terrible experience in every way, stressing him out to be confined like that, and so never repeated it.

Goodnight tried to shift into human every now and again, but eventually stopped trying because it always had the same result. The pain was unbearable, and in time had started to convince himself that he belonged like this. They had made him something less than human, and this was just his body and mind admitting it, preventing him from shifting back because he didn’t deserve it.

Sam tried to encourage him to attempt to shift back, and it was what eventually made him leave. Because the way Sam looked at him was as if it was a question of Goodnight not wanting to rather than not being able to.

~

He arrived at a town late in the afternoon. He shifted to a dog a couple of yards away from the town, people tended to get upset with him when he wandered the streets as a wolf. It had been a couple of months since he parted ways with Sam, it was a bit difficult to keep track of time, he also wasn’t keeping track of where he was, but if he had to guess he thought maybe somewhere in Texas.

He came at the town from the side, slinking in behind and between the buildings, and kept to the shadows, where he could look for discarded food. 

When his ears pricked up at the sound of commotion from the main street. He crept forward, slinking in under a porch, where he could hide but also look out into the street. Across from him six men were dragging out a seventh from the saloon. Shouting that they didn’t serve the likes of him.

The man was tossed to the ground, and one of them kicked sand in his face, but the man on the ground lifted his hand to block it. Another kicked the man on the ground, and Goodnight felt a stab of recognition and empathy. However, this man unlike Goodnight didn’t stay down, in a flash of movement he got up on his feet, his black hat falling off his head. He punched one of the men in the face, and the whole group crowded him, but it was quickly clear that while they had advantage in number, they were in no way equally matched against this one man in combat skill.

Two men were kicked down in rapid succession, giving Goodnight better view of him again, he was asian, his dark hair was put up in a messy bun with a hairpin. He wore a light, patterned shirt, his long legs clad in dark pinstriped pants, and he spun around kicking one of the men so that he fell to the ground. He punched another who stumbled a couple of feet away.

Goodnight was impressed and intrigued in equal measure.

The fight ended as quickly as it had started, with all six men on the ground and the Asian man still standing. Goodnight heard him scoff, before wiping his hands together and then picked up his hat, placing it back on his head, and stalked towards the stable.

Goodnight watched him walk away for a bit, staying even after he was out of sight. Before he started to crawl back towards the alley he’d come from, when one of the men on the ground got up with a groan. Goodnight stopped and watched, tilting his head to the side.

The man shook one of his companions.

“That oriental bastard’s not getting away with this,” the man growled. “Get the Dylan brothers and a couple of rifles. We’ll take the horses out and get him while he’s asleep. He won’t get far today anyway, it’ll get dark soon.”

Goodnight wasn’t sure what made him do it, but before he could think much of it, he hurried towards the edge of town, just in time to spot the rider heading south. Goodnight shifted into a wolf, and followed.

~ ~ ~

As the sun began to set Billy came upon a creek and decided to settle down there for the night. After getting a fire started he dipped a balled up cloth in the cold water and pressing it against the corner of his eye, where someone had gotten in a lucky punch. He sat down on his bedroll by the fire with a heavy sigh, the cold felt good on the growing bruise. He had gotten out of the fight with only a few scrapes, mostly from when he was thrown on the ground.

‘You can’t fight your way through life’ his mother had said once, but so far that seemed to be the winning tactic, also life was giving him very few other options other than fighting. He wished he’d at least gotten the chance to eat something. He only a had a little bit of jerky left, and a stale piece of bread.

Perhaps next town would work out better.

He sat there for a bit before he dug out the jerky from his bag. He had his hand in the bag, looking into it when he heard something moving in the grass. Head snapping up and looking in the direction of the sound, his other hand went to his holster. A second later a dog came trotting into the light of the fire. It was not much taller than Billy’s knees, grey with streaks of white, as well as white belly and chest. Black fur around the eyes, a black nose, and from the muzzle hung longer white fur almost like a mustache and beard, its tail stood up and was curved slightly towards its back. It stopped on the other side of the fire from where Billy sat, and sat down on its haunches and looked at Billy.

It looked a little bit underfed, and the coat was matted in places, it didn’t look like it was being very well taken care of. Billy sat down again holding the jerky in his hand, he took a bite from it, and the dog watched, a little drop of saliva falling from its mouth.

“Go home,” Billy said. The dog didn’t move. “I’m not going to share my food,” Billy said. The dog whined and laid down on its stomach, front paws stretched out in front of it, and the hind legs drawn up underneath it.

Billy did his best to ignore the dog, eating another strip of jerky after the first one, but the air was filled with the sound of the dog panting, and not moving. Billy looked over at it again and it’s blue eyes looked straight at him. Billy couldn’t remember ever seeing a dog with eyes that blue before.

Billy tossed a piece of jerky on the ground. The dog was on its paws in a millisecond and gulfing down the meat swallowing it without even chewing it.

“There you go, now go home,” Billy said, the dog sat down again, tilting its head to the side curiously as it watched Billy, who realized he’d told it to leave in Korean. “Oh, wait, you don’t understand Korean,” Billy said. “It’s a dog Billy,” he said to himself, “It doesn’t understand any language.”

“Go home,” he said, this time in English, and pointed in the direction of the town he had left.

The dog curled up on the ground.

Billy shook his head with a sigh. It would probably leave when BIlly left in the morning. Instead he laid down, not bothering with a blanket, the previous nights had been warm, and this one didn’t seem to be much different.

~

When the barking of a dog woke him up it was pitch black, the fire had almost gone out, only smoldering a little.

“Shut up,” Billy grumbled. Head heavy with sleep, and he turned over on his side. The dog kept barking. “Go away,” Billy said. The dog did not go away, it started to growl and snarl pretty loudly, and Billy felt a jolt of fear. What if the dog had lost its mind and was about to attack him?

He sat up, and started fumbling for his gun. He could only barely make out the dog as it was standing at the edge of the light cast by the dying fire. It wasn’t facing Billy though, it was looking out into the darkness, barking and growling.

Billy tensed up, drawing his gun. He couldn’t hear anything other than the dog, but it seemed so insistent there was something out there and Billy started to believe there was something.

Suddenly his eyes started playing tricks with him. He had been trying to scan the darkness without seeing anything, when the dog stopped barking and Billy looked over at it, and had to blink several times, because it looked like the dog was growing, and that in the next moment where there had been a dog a massive grey wolf stood growling before it took off into the dark.

He had to have imagined it, he told himself. He couldn’t have just seen a dog turn into a wolf. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming, followed by gunfire, Billy jumped to his feet pointing the gun in the direction of the sounds, except at that same moment silence fell again.

Billy paced in front of the fire for a bit, trying to hear anything, but the night was silent, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Eventually he returned to his bed roll. The dog, or if it had been a wolf, was still gone.

He slept fitfully, tossing and turning and waking several times, most of the time not even sleeping but just dozing lightly, every sound a potential threat.

In the early hours he did fall asleep properly and got a few hours of proper rest, before the sun woke him. When he opened his eyes he spotted the dog again, sleeping just a few inches out of Billy’s reach, but when Billy moved so that he would be able to reach, just to check that the dog was really real, it jumped up and took several steps away from Billy, looking wary with its tail between the legs. Billy shrugged at it, and laid back down on his back. If it was gonna be skittish that was the dog’s business, he didn’t care.

Billy got up, kicked sand over the burnt logs and started packing up. The dog had trotted down to the creek and was drinking. Right now it just looked like an ordinary dog, surely he had imagined it turning into a wolf the night before.

With his bags and the bedroll securely tied to the saddle he mounted his horse and they started walking. He half turned to shout bye to the dog, but noticed it coming trotting towards them.

“Go home,” Billy said, but he didn’t expect the dog to listen. Maybe it wasn’t an English dog at all. He tried to remember if he knew any words in Spanish, but the only things he had heard were things muttered under breath behind the backs of white men, and Billy had a feeling those things wouldn’t really work to get this dog to go away.

“I’m not going to feed you,” Billy said. The dog ignored this and just kept trotting along a couple of paces away from Billy’s horse, which walked along and ignored the dog completely. Clearly those two were going to get along.

Around midday they took a break underneath the only tree for miles. Billy had been in Texas for a while now, but still couldn’t get over how enormous it was, and how large and empty the sky above them was. He sat down back against the tree, and watched the dog lying in the shade panting, and the horse grazing nearby, before he closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he could leave the dog in the next town.

Only an hour after they started riding again the dog suddenly veered off to the left and disappeared from sight. Billy frowned and for a second considered following it, but then reminded himself it wasn’t his dog, and where it was going was none of his business and so he continued on. 

According to the map it was still a day’s ride to Breckenridge and so in the afternoon he found a decent place to make camp. Next to couple of boulders on a hill and the desert all around. He had just gotten the fire started, when he spotted movement at the bottom of the hill, and moments later he could make out something grey dragging something. He started to walk down the hill and realized it was the dog, and it was dragging something brown and larger than itself.

“Is that a calf?” Billy asked, befuddledly. “How did you capture a calf?” Billy asked. 

The dog dropped its kill and barked happily, tail wagging. Billy sighed.

“Okay, I know you’re just dumb dog, but if someone finds us they are going to accuse me of stealing that and probably throw me in jail.” Or they’d just shoot him on the spot. The dog’s tail stopped and it whined, lowering its stomach to the ground and looked up at Billy and with those blue eyes it managed to look unbelievably sad.

“Well, it’s too late now,” Billy said, but he was frowning at the dog’s reaction, it seemed to understand more than it should. He stepped towards the calf, and the dog stepped in between, giving Billy a wary look.

“Just gonna help you drag it up the hill,” Billy said. The dog seemed to hesitate, and Billy took the chance and grabbed the hind legs of the calf, the dog let out a soft ‘woof’, but didn’t do anything else so Billy dragged it up the hill. He crouched down by the calf’s head, eyes narrowing. The calf had been killed by having its throat ripped out, by what looked like something with a lot larger jaws than the dog.

He looked up at the dog, which sat there looking proud of himself.

“Good dog,” Billy said. The dog’s tail thumped against the ground. “Share?” Billy asked, not sure why, and felt even more confused when it looked like the dog nodded. Billy shook himself and decided he’d pretend he hadn’t seen that happen.

He prepared half of the calf, leaving half the carcass to the dog. It was a really nice meal for a change, afterwards Billy lit a cigarette and leaned back closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of being full, the opium dulling his mind just enough to relax.

~ ~ ~

Goodnight wasn’t sure when he decided to follow this Billy, the man didn’t strike him as the most approachable, but Goodnight was still intrigued by him. There was also something freeing in Billy having no idea what Goodnight was. So he decided to ignore the repeated commands to go home. It wasn’t like he had a home anyway, so he couldn’t do what he was told anyway.

He did slink away when they approached the next town, mainly so that he could have some privacy to shift. He preferred to not stay in the same shape constantly. Except for back when he could shift to human. There was a stab of longing in his chest, and he almost tried, before reminding himself there was no point in it, and that he didn’t need the pain that would linger in his bones and muscles, and his mind from yet another failure.

Instead he shifted into a cat, and followed Billy at a distance as he tied the horse outside the boarding house. Goodnight followed him inside just to make sure he got a room, and then he went back outside again to find a sunny spot and spend a couple of hours grooming himself, before taking a nap. Perhaps he should have approached Billy as a cat instead, he thought and then closed his eyes, purring a little to himself as he relaxed in the warm sunshine.

A couple of hours later he checked up on Billy as the man left the saloon, and clearly had actually been allowed to drink this time, without any fights presumably. Goodnight left him alone once he’d reached the boarding house and went to find a place to sleep in the livery stable.

The thing was if he could have answered when someone asked if he missed being human he would of course answer yes. How could he not miss having opposable thumbs? Eating properly prepared food and not just scrounging for food? Talking? Reding? All those things he missed, but there were so many other things about being human which made him want to curl up and hide again.

He could so easily picture now, how his fellow soldiers turned monsters had gone a little bit mad, how easily it was to get swept away by the animal instincts. He wasn’t quite sure how he himself was still staying in somewhat control. He had gotten used to being different animals, this was his life, but his mind was still very much human, most of the time.

~

The next day he almost missed Billy leaving, and had to hurry to catch up with him.

“Thought you’d had enough of me,” Billy said when Goodnight came up beside his horse. Goodnight was running with his tongue lolling out, and didn’t acknowledge Billy talking to him. Billys horse was keeping a slightly faster walking pace this day, and Goodnight was soon trotting along alone, and shifted into a slightly faster shape. Running fast and really stretching out. His sense of smell as a panther wasn’t quite as good as when he was a dog or wolf, but it was easy enough to follow the trail of Billy’s horse since there had been no other horses out this way to confuse him.

Around midday he caught up with them when they were taking a break and Goodnight shifted back into the familiar shape of a dog, and lay down on the ground and rested.

During the afternoon their pace slowed, and Goodnight could easily keep up with them. They made camp at the mouth of a dried out riverbed, a lot of flat rounded stones on the ground, and not the faintest whiff of water. Billy cooked, having apparently bought supplies in town, and despite him promising not to feed Goodnight, tossed him some jerky, which Goodnight happily devoured.

Billy had also procured a bowl which he filled with water from his canteen and Goodnight drank greedily, lapping up every single drop. 

While Billy sat on his bedroll smoking, Goodnight laid down closer to him than the previous nights, almost within Billy’s reach.

Goodnight was relaxing, when a hand gently landed on his flank. Goodnight let out a pathetic sound and scrambled up on his feet and ran several feet away till he had the fire between him and Billy, who was looking at Goodnight in surprise, before his face morphed into something more accepting.

“Hey, it’s alright, dog,” Billy said. “I won’t hurt you.” He huffed a breath. “I think I get you though,” he continued. “Haven’t liked people touching me either for a while now.”

Goodnight sat down and looked and listened as Billy started talking, at first almost looking surprised at the words coming from him, as he told Goodnight about his journey to America, how it was less than willingly, how he’d ended up as indentured servant. Told Goodnight about the work he’d been forced to do, about how he had fled and now lived day to day trying to scrape it by.

Billy stopped and looked into the fire.

“I’ve never really talked about it,” Billy said. Goodnight tried to make a comforting sound, but he wasn’t sure it translated very well. “Thank you for listening,” Billy said with a smile. “Maybe there’s some good to having you tag along and eating all my food.”

Goodnight barked at him, because seriously he brought him a calf, what more did he want.

He laid down on the ground, but he didn’t fall asleep. Waited until he could hear the calm even breaths from Billy signalling he was asleep, and then started to make his way around their campsite looking out for trouble, and thankfully not finding any.

~ 

Billy telling Goodnight about his life seemed to have opened him up. The next day as they rode on Billy talked about all manner of things. He told him about getting used to being in America, about mistakes he’d made because it was so very different. Goodnight listened to him describe his first home, and the many differences between the two countries. Every now and again he would accidentally slip into his native language, which Goodnight of course didn’t understand, but it was quite nice to listen to and Billy usually caught his slip ups fairly quickly. 

As they continued on their journey, heading somewhere Goodnight didn’t know where. Billy continued to talk to Goodnight during their traveling and in the evenings when they’d made camp. He told Goodnight about learning English, about learning to read a completely different writing system. He admitted that he was still not great at reading it yet. He talked about the things he missed, and the things he was ashamed to say he didn’t miss. Billy told him things Goodnight could tell he had never and would never tell another human. 

Weeks passed and while they still had days, sometimes several in a row, where Billy didn’t say more than a few words. Goodnight came to know this man better than himself. Knew anything from his favorite food, to what he saw in the nightmares that woke him up in the middle of the night screaming.

Goodnight still had nightmares. It had surprised him at first, but then he was still a human in mind and perhaps that had made the nightmares seem stronger, more vivid, he didn’t know. He still had dreams about battles he had been in, and in his dreams he was always human. In his dreams he couldn’t turn into a terrifying bear, or a dangerous tiger, he could only be what he had once thought of as ‘himself’.

Billy didn’t stop in a whole lot of towns on their journey. Every now and again Goodnight would slip away, to shift into something larger and better at hunting things other than rats, and go hunting. He brought back deer, which he let Billy prepare, and then rather than eat the carcass raw would steal bits of roasted deer, because eating prepared food again was a delight even though he didn’t need to. Eventually BIlly caught on to the fact that Goodnight preferred the roasted meat and would prepare the whole thing before sharing with him.

~

They were heading west, that much Goodnight knew, and it didn’t really matter to him which direction they were heading in. It was an overcast day, not that it made it much cooler, but the world was a little less bright.

He had strayed away a bit from Billy and the trail but could still hear the horse’s hooves in the distance. Sometimes being a dog he ended up following interesting smells, it was a weakness he knew, and one he tried to fight because it only meant he was slipping further away from human. He didn’t want to turn into the others, those who gave in and lost any sense of humanity left, but he also couldn’t shift back to human, so perhaps giving in was just a matter of time.

He was following the scent of a rodent of some kind, when suddenly a sharp pain from one hind paw made him stop and lift it, waves of pain radiating up through his leg and he whimpered. Twisting around he saw red droplets of blood dripping onto a small cactus hidden in the grass. Annoyed at himself for having missed it he jumped away from it, and then tried to twist and stretch his leg to pull out the spine hooked into his paw, but couldn’t get a good grip.

His mind casting desperately for a solution made him try to shift into human, opposable thumbs would be really helpful about now. His whole body shuddered and he fell down on the ground, curling up in a ball as even more excruciating pain wracked his body. He howled in pain and trembled.

He lay there panting when he could hear hooves closing in. He quickly got up again, careful not to lean on his injured paw. Billy and his horse came over the ridge.

“There you are,” Billy said. “I thought I heard something.”

He looked around them at the empty desert and then back at Goodnight.

“Let’s get back to the trail.”

Goodnight limped after him, he could drag his one paw behind, and only trail after by a little bit. Though they did not get far until Billy noticed and held back a bit, and Goodnight could see when he looked back and his eyes widened.

“You’re bleeding,” Billy said. Stopping and dismounting he walked towards Goodnight who backed away, making Billy stop.

“Dog,” Billy said. “I just want to help you, okay.”

Goodnight could take care of himself, he had taken care of himself for a while. He didn’t... Shouldn’t need help. He should be able to remove one pesky little spine and then move on. He just needed a bit more time to try.

In front of him Billy crouched down.

“Come on, let me help you.”

Goodnight didn’t move when Billy took a step towards him again Holding his hands up so that Goodnight could see them Billy approached. He reached Goodnight and held out a hand towards Goodnight’s muzzle. Goodnight didn’t move.

He shouldn’t need this.

Billy moved forward and gripped Goodnight’s hind leg lightly. He flinched a little, but didn’t pull away. He did pull away when the spine was yanked out of his paw, and he hopped several feet away while Billy tossed the thing to the ground and then walked back to his horse getting something from the bag.

Goodnight watched him as he came closer to him again, holding up a white roll of bandages. Goodnight was hesitant but he let Billy wrap his paw, and once he was finished he stepped back, letting Goodnight take a few steps.

“You could lie in front of me in the saddle,” Billy said. Goodnight ignored this and just kept walking. He was still limping, and it still hurt, but it was a little bit easier to move.

~

Two nights later he woke up from Billy shouting in his sleep. It was still light enough from the fire that when Goodnight lifted his head he could see him toss and turn. Goodnight padded over there, still limping, and nosed at Billy’s hand which was clenched in a fist. Billy had stopped shouting and was whimpering, a sound which cut deep into Goodnight’s heart.

He butted at Billy’s arm with his head, until he lay still, and then Goodnight - making sure the breaths Billy was taking now that he started to calm down, were still those of someone asleep - shifted into a cat. He crawled up on Billy’s stomach, curling up there and purring until he could feel the last of Billy’s shivers go away and Goodnight fell asleep like that. Only just waking up in time to shift back and move away to a safer distance.

He still wasn’t sure about what he thought about physical contact, of being touched, but he did like the idea of being able to help Billy, just by being there, because he had to admit to himself, he had started to like Billy.

~ ~ ~

If someone had asked Billy a few months back if he was lonely, his answer would have been “No.” And yet after only a couple of weeks of having the strange dog - and it was most definitely strange - following him across Texas and into the New Mexico Territories he had grown quite fond of the aloof dog. He discovered an appreciation for talking and having someone listen to him. He couldn’t really prove it, but he was convinced the dog was not just listening to him but also understood him - or maybe he had just been spending far too much time alone with the dog instead of with other people.

The dog, he still wasn’t sure what to name it, had allowed him to change the bandage on its paw every other day and it was starting to look like it would heal nicely. 

The dog wagged his tail when Billy told him he’d get rid of the bandage soon, which could just be because he was a dog, or because he understood Billy. Maybe he did need to spend some time around actual people again.

The thing was, he had been avoiding settlements, not that that was particularly hard considering where he was, because he preferred the solitude. Although that thought made him scoff at himself. It wasn’t so much a preference as a necessity.

He finished his dinner and lit a cigarette leaning back. The dog came back after walking the perimeter of their camp, as it usually did, but instead of lying down on the opposite side of the fire from Billy like he usually did, the dog hesitantly lay down near Billy’s bedroll, close enough for Billy to touch.

Billy didn’t move, just sat still and slowly finished his smoke. The fire crackled and Billy watched it for a long moment, and then reached out laying his hand gently on the dog’s side. He felt it tense up and start trembling underneath Billy’s hand, but it lay still.

“Shouldn’t you have figured out by now that I’m not going to hurt you?” Billy asked in a low voice. He started stroking its fur, and slowly he felt the dog start to relax. Billy smiled, warmth spreading in his chest and he glanced at the dog which had its eyes closed. Billy continued stroking and petting him, and looked back into the fire. Feeling strangely proud, like he had accomplished something.

~

Days passed and they fell into a new routine where every night the dog would sleep next to Billy and sometimes press really close whenever Billy was haunted by nightmares, it was nice, comforting.

Billy had almost fallen asleep, when suddenly next to him the dog stood up and growled at the darkness outside the circle of light from their fire. Billy sat up and put a hand on the dog’s back, a move which didn’t even distract it as it stared intently forward.

“What-” Billy started to say when he heard a rustling in the dark. The dog took off into the dark at a full sprint.

“Wait!” Billy shouted, he scrambled up on his feet grabbing his gun and ran after.

“Dog!” Billy shouted. His eyes getting used to only the light of the moon. “Dog, come back here!” Billy shouted. Worry gripping his heart tight.

He heard loud growling and yelping which was cut short.

“Dog!” Billy shouted. Annoyed with himself suddenly for not giving the dog a proper name.

Billy stumbled, and when he righted himself spotted the very large wolf standing in front of him, with flecks of something dark like blood on its muzzle. Billy raised his gun aiming at the wolf, its blue eyes glinting as it turned its head slightly and the moonlight reflected in them. Billy stared, hand steady on his gun, but something made him hesitate and the wolf turned and ran off.

Silence descended, and Billy lowered his gun, holstering as he couldn’t hear anything else.

“Dog!” He shouted, hoping it would at least make a noise to lead him to it, but there was nothing. He tried calling a few more times, but nothing. He took sight on the fire and started to walk towards it. A gnawing in his stomach of wondering what had happened to the dog.

He sat down by the fire, unable to sleep, he fed it all night, keeping it burning, hoping that the dog would see it and come back.

When he started to see light on the horizon the dog still hadn’t returned, but it was light enough for Billy to start searching the immediate area. He walked through the sand and rocks, between cacti and low growing shrubs, searching in a methodical pattern, but all he found was a dead cougar, recently dead too judging by the look of it.

Billy continued searching for another few hours before returning to his campsite. He sat down again poking at the fire and started preparing breakfast, usually he just started riding in the morning, but he was reluctant to leave. Had the dog gotten lost in the dark? Was it injured? It had to be, surely it would have come back if it could?

He realized how fond he had grown of the dog when it pained him to think that the dog would be willingly staying away and not planning on coming back. He lingered there all day, waiting and hoping, and fell asleep exhausted as night fell.

~ ~ ~

“Goodnight Robicheaux, you are an idiot.” It was disturbing how much the voice in his head sounded like Sam Chisholm.

He had seen Billy standing there aiming a gun at him and freaked out, without thinking he had just run away and now in the light of day, lying in the shade of a large cliff, he felt alternately sorry for himself and embarrassed.

Of course Billy would have drawn his gun on him, who wouldn’t when faced with a monster, he hadn’t known it was Goodnight.

What worried him even more as the day went on and he kept thinking back to the night before, was that at first he hadn’t recognized Billy, and had felt himself get ready to attack, and even after he recognized him there had been a brief moment when he was still feeling like attacking before he had wrestled back control of himself. It scared him, this animalistic loss of control which happened more and more often. Scared him almost as much as being a regular human being.

He stayed there in the shade of the cliff until the next day when he started to head west, still wrestling with whether or not he should rejoin Billy or slip away now, before he did something to harm him.

~ ~ ~

Billy packed up slowly the following day, expecting, hoping the dog to come trotting across the ridge, but it didn’t happen, so around noon he started riding west again, but in no rush he took it very slow, continuing to hope the dog would catch up.

He made camp again in the evening, after only a few hours ride, and sitting by the fire he kept almost tossing scraps of meat, and talking out loud, missing the company of the dog. He slept badly, nightmares waking him several times. In the early morning grey light of dawn he set off again.

That afternoon Billy reached a small town, a sign just outside the town had the words ‘Badgerville’ written on it and Billy decided he could at least see if there was a room to rent, perhaps get himself a warm cooked meal, but mostly he wanted to drink until he could fall asleep, the demons of his past silenced though booze. As soon as he reached a larger town he would be able to restock his opium, since the regular tobac didn’t do enough to settle him.

~

Billy had eaten, and was well on his way to getting pleasantly drunk, sitting in the saloon, letting the noise of people wash over him and not paying as much attention to his surroundings as usual. When a large strong hand suddenly gripped his shoulder.

“What you looking at slant eyed freak?”

Billy had been staring at a wall since he sat down, so he guessed the man was just looking for a fight. He glanced up at the man, at least a head taller than Billy and built like an ox, Billy could probably take him.

“Well, I can promise I wasn’t staring at you,” Billy said, tauntingly. The man’s face got redder and he glared.

“You talking back, smartass?” the man asked. Another set of hands gripped Billy and pulled him out of the chair. Billy was dragged outside and shoved up against a wall.

“I’ll teach you not to talk back to those better than you.” The first man said, beside him stood a man only slightly smaller than the first one.

Billy scoffed, and paid for it when the man punched him in the stomach, air rushing out and he started to double over, before pulling himself up and straightening again, staring into the man’s face challenging.

He was calculating in his head the best way of taking the two men out, when a sound to their side made them all stop. Billy glanced over and through a pile of broken debris stepped a grey dog, and Billy recognized it immediately.

“Just a dog,” the first man’s friend said.

The dog started growling. The man picking a fight with Billy kicked some sand in the direction of the dog and laughed. The dog barked.

The man holding Billy turned his attention back to Billy and grabbed Billy’s head, turning it roughly to face him, before backhanding him.

“That dog ain’t coming to your rescue,” the man said.

“Don’t need it to,” Billy said, touching the tip of his tongue to his lip where it had split from the force of the slap.

“Uh, Carl,” said Carl’s friend. “I don’t know about that dog.”

Billy turned his head to look at the dog, and then frowned. The dog was shimmering it seemed like it’s skin was blurring, and then it started changing. He heard the other two gasp, and in the next moment a huge gunmetal-grey wolf was standing in the place the dog had been, growling and snarling it showed off a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Skinwalker,” Carl’s friend murmured and turned tail and started running, not a very close friendship, Billy thought. He only heard the sound of him running away though, as Billy’s sight was captivated by the wolf, which started to take steps closer. Carl let go of Billy and took a step back, turning to face the wolf, hand reaching for his holster. Swiftly Billy kicked his hand, at the same time as the wolf jumped with its front paws landing on the man’s shoulders, pushing him down to the ground. The man yelped. The wolf stood on him, jaw opening and teeth going around the man’s throat.

“Hey,” Billy said. “No need to kill him.”

The wolf paused, teeth still on the man’s throat, but it’s ears twitched.

“He was only picking a fight,” Billy said. “I could have taken him.”

The wolf seemed to consider this, then in a move that strangely reminded BIlly of a shug the Wolf lifted it head away from the throat. It still stood on top of the man effectively trapping him against the ground. The man shouted alternatively at the wolf to get away, and alternatively at Billy to order the wolf away. Billy wasn’t sure why he thought Billy could do that. 

Billy crouched down, and he should probably feel something like fear he suspected, but instead he just reached out a hand towards the wolf, which looked at him, with a wary look. The man on the ground squirmed. The wolf moved faster than Billy could blink, digging its teeth into the man’s arm. He screamed, and Billy could hear the crunch of bones. The wolf looked back at Billy another moment, before taking a hesitant step forward, bumping its head against Billy’s hand. For a brief second Billy felt soft fur against his palm, but then the wolf danced away and with one last look at Billy over its shoulder it took off away from the alley. Billy didn’t hesitate, he rose up, and started running after, leaving the screaming man on the ground.

He quickly untied his horse from where he had left it, glad he hadn’t bothered with a stable or taking off any of the tack, as he could quickly get up in the saddle and take off after the wolf running out of the town.

A quarter mile out of town the wolf shifted again into some sort of big cat, a panther Billy thought and really started running. Billy’s horse was struggling to keep up.

As his horse started panting, it’s legs fading Billy lost sight of the panther and he had to slow down, worried his horse would stumble and fall.

Billy made a fire and sat down to wait.

The skinwalker didn’t approach him again, but when he woke the next morning there was a dead rabbit lying on the other side of his camp. Billy roasted the rabbit and ate it for breakfast, before mounting up and continuing north. Mind swirling with thoughts. He had so many questions and so few answers.

Days passed and he continued onwards, occasionally convinced he caught a glimpse of a large grey wolf, or a panther. Every morning there would be a small dead animal in his camp, like a gift, and Billy ate it gratefully.

He eventually rode into the town Lincoln, New Mexico. It was still early in the afternoon and the saloon was mostly empty, with the exception of an older man, deep wrinkles in a sunburnt face, and greying hair, sitting at the bar, and only acknowledging Billy’s approach with a nod. Behind the bar stood a middle aged woman, who greeted Billy with a smile, and was happy to accept the money Billy slid across to her.

“Anything else I can do for you?” She asked, setting down the glass in front of Billy, who hesitated and then said.

“Do you know what a skinwalker is?” he asked, in a rush. “I heard some men a few towns over mention it.”

“They were messing with you,” the woman said, with a gentle smile bordering on condescension, which made something like annoyance prickle down Billy’s spine. “It’s nothing but a myth.”

The old man on the other hand scoffed.

“Something to add, Grant?” The woman asked him.

“Well, Mary I guess that depends,” the man peered at Billy from under bushy eyebrows, and he rolled the edge of the bottom of his empty glass against the dark wood of the counter.

Billy put down a few more coins on the counter.

“For his refill,” Billy said.

“You don’t want to do that,” she said. Billy pushed the coins closer to her and she sighed shaking her head but she picked them up. “It’s your money,” she said, before picking up a bottle, uncorking it and pouring more amber liquid into the man’s glass.

“Much obliged,” the man, Grant, said with a nod of his head. Billy took a drink from his own glass.

“So, skinwalkers?” Billy asked.

~

Before leaving Lincoln Billy visited the butchers purchasing to pork chops in the hope that he could tempt the skinwalker. As he rode away his mind spun with the things he’d been told. About skinwalkers and how they shifted into only one animal, which didn’t at all fit with what Billy had seen. Grant had also told him about what the confederate army had done to their own soldiers, turning them into monsters. Mentioned the five apparently infamous names of the soldiers who were supposedly turned, and how there were many rumors saying they weren’t the only ones, there were more of them walking around in the country. Pretending to be humans. Billy wasn’t sure how much of what he had been told he should listen to, since his experience with the skinwalker differed, but he had memorized the names.

After a couple of hours of riding he settled down, making camp next to a cliff and a tree, where he made a fire and started preparing the meat. With the meat roasting behind him, he stood up and shouted the names he had been told, long pauses in between the names, and then starting over again.

Nothing happened and BIlly sat down and started eating, he was almost done when there was a rustling in the grass outside the light from the fire.

“Hey,” Billy called out. “I got you a pork chop.”

Silence followed for a brief moment, and then a shadow moved in the darkness before the dog stepped into the light. Sitting down when it noticed Billy looking at him. 

“There you are,” Billy said. Smiling a little. The skinwalker wagging its tail hesitantly.

Billy grabbed the remaining porkchop and tossed it to the dog which hesitated another second before he started devouring it.

“I’ve missed you,” Billy said in a moment of honesty, his chest warmed from seeing the skinwalker so close again. “I know what you are now,” he murmured. The dog having finished licked its muzzle and shot Billy a wary look.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Billy said. “Will you show me?”

The skinwalker tilted its head to the side and looked at Billy.

“Will you show me what you can turn into?” Billy asked, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.

It hesitated and then turned into a wolf, followed by a huge bear. Back to wolf and back to dog, and then various large cats followed by a common house cat, all throughout the process he kept his distance from Billy, but Billy could still see that at no point did his eyes change, they stayed the same piercing blue, and the whole show was over in moments but it was breathtakingly fascinating.

“Wow,” Billy murmured. His eyes wide as he looked at the cat who sat down, tail curling around its paws and it stared straight at Billy.

~ ~ ~

Goodnight had been hesitant about showing up, but the way Billy had called out the names had made him curious, and then there had been the smell of the pork chop, which now was filling his empty stomach, and making him feel a bit more relaxed. Which was why he had agreed to showing off a bit, even if he hadn’t been sure it would be smart. He wasn’t sure what he had expected Billy’s reaction to be, fear? Anger? But none of that, instead he just seemed awed.

“So, you are one of the confederate soldiers?” Billy asked, and Goodnight nodded. When he started to list the names Goodnight ignored him until he got to Goodnight’s name, at which point he got up and walked even closer.

“Goodnight,” Billy said, Goodnight liked the way his name sounded in Billy’s voice and he walked even closer. Billy stretched out his hand towards Goodnight, and he pushed his head against Billy’s fingers, before sitting down out of reach.

“So you can change into a human?” Billy asked. Goodnight hesitated and then shook his head. Billy frowned.

“But you are human?” 

Goodnight would rather not answer that and he looked away.

“Is it that you can’t anymore?” Billy asked. Goodnight gave a half nod, still looking away.

“It doesn’t matter I guess,” Billy said and now Goodnight looked at him, he was smiling.

“If you want to, you can continue to travel with me again,” Billy said.

And Goodnight felt warmth spreading through his chest. He had missed Billy, had missed his easy company.

~

They fell back into a new rhythm with each other during their travel. Even though Billy knew, Goodnight still preferred to run along as a dog even if perhaps his endurance would be greater as one of the other animals - sometimes he almost wished horse had been one of his options, but then remembered that if that had been then the army would have expected him to be ridden, and that would have been too much of a blow to his dignity - however at night he would often turn into a cat and curl up near Billy, even letting him pet him.

Billy involved Goodnight more when he talked, he’d always asked questions, rhetorical ones, but now he would ask yes or no questions. The questions were mostly if Goodnight needed a break or if a spot looked good for their camp at night. Sometimes Billy even forgot himself and asked something which required an actual answer and not a nod or a shake of a head.

Before he had been turned into this, and before the war too, Goodnight had enjoyed conversations. Had enjoyed talking, it was how people formed connections with each other, and he had enjoyed that once. It was something human.

~

They arrived in Albuquerque and Billy stopped outside one of the more run down boarding houses. Goodnight sat down while Billy tied his horse, panting with his tongue lolling out.

“Do you think you could change into something a bit easier to smuggle inside?” Billy said out of the corner of his mouth, though there was no one watching them. It was late in the evening, and any noise had come from the two saloons in the city they had ridden past.

Goodnight thought the place looked suitable worn down, and surely couldn’t have a “no dogs”-policy, but then spotted the sign saying “No dogs, no hawks or falcons, and no chupacabras” Goodnight tilted his head and thought whoever owned the establishment seemed to have a rather peculiar sense of humor.

He i slunk away to make sure he was out of sight, and shifted into a cat before strolling back to Billy who was unfastening one of his bags, which he dropped to the ground, open, and Goodnight hesitantly jumped inside. Curling up among Billy’s clothes and various other belongings he tried not to think about how much he hated being trapped in the confined space, nor about the indignity of being carried around like this.

Billy ended up getting a bed in a large room with four other beds, and since no one was there yet, Billy picked the bed standing next to the far wall, and set down the bag on the bed. Goodnight poking his head out and surveying the room.

“I’m going to the saloon,” Billy said. “Gonna find out if there’s any temporary jobs that pay. We’re running ind of low on funds,” he said. “You stay here and try to keep quiet so no one notices you.”

Goodnight simply looked at him.

“I’m going to take that as agreement,” Billy said.

Once he was gone Goodnight jumped out of the bag and started prowling the room, until he found a mostly loose floorboard underneath one of the other beds. It was possible to pry it open with paws and his head and then slink in under it, and then make his way to the outside.

He followed Billy in the shadows, an easy task with the sun mostly gone, and then sat outside the saloon keeping an eye out until Billy walked back to the boarding house. He was back in the bag before Billy returned, and when Billy laid down Goodnight lay curled up underneath the blanket closest to the wall.

~

They stayed in Albuquerque for almost a month, there were always some building or other that needed to be built and men needed to build it, or roofs that needed fixing. Goodnight stayed close, not hiding the fact that he was watching Billy, he lay in the sun in the shape of a cat, close enough to the construction site that Billy could easily spot him. After a few days Billy would simply bring his bag along, leaving it close by, not wanting to leave it unattended in the boarding house, and Goodnight would nap next to it. An unlikely guard, but a guard nonetheless.

He napped a lot, after all he was in the shape of a cat and cats needed sleep, but he also watched Billy working in the heat of the summer sun. Trousers with suspenders hanging down past his hips, the knife belt next to Goodnight, and a loose half unbuttoned linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and whenever he walked past Goodnight a sheen of sweat on his chest and collar bones. Something long buried and half-forgotten stirred in the back of Goodnight’s mind, but he did his best not to pay too much attention to it.

They left Albuquerque eventually and set out on the trail towards Arizona. Goodnight preferred the open road, and they didn’t stop at any of the few settlements they came across until they reached the next territory.

~

Arizona was much of the same, but here and there red cliffs would rise above them, and at night they’d make camp with their backs to one.

The fire crackled, the only light in the dark desert once the sun had gone down. Goodnight was resting on his side in the dust, watching the fire. Close by Billy was stretched out on his bed roll, smoking. The smoke smelling of something different than just tobacco, and there was a haze to Billy’s eyes, but he was smiling, telling Goodnight about his home.

“You know, Goody,” Billy interrupted himself suddenly, and Goodnight wondered at the new nickname. “I’m really happy I met you.”

Goodnight was floored with the intensity he felt the want to say the same to Billy. Because he was he realized. He was happy, this was what happiness felt like. Warm and content with a full belly and good company. This was all Goodnight needed, and yet while he was happy with what he had there was something missing.

He heaved himself up on his paws and walked closer, licking one of Billy’s hands, feeling at a loss since he couldn’t express how happy he was to have Billy in his life. Without really thinking about what he was doing he focused his mind inwards, finding that image of himself, it was a little bit blurry, he couldn’t quite remember himself, and curled around it. Starting to shift, expecting the pain but there was no pain, the shock of which threw him out of the process completely and he stayed a dog. Mind racing he laid down next to Billy on the bed roll, surprised, confused and shaken.

~

The next morning before Billy woke up, he trotted out into the desert, not wanting an audience, and he once again tried to shift back into a human, but this time it was accompanied by the feeling of cold knives stabbing into every part of his body. His muscles spasmed and he fell to the ground panting and whimpering from the pain that danced through his body.

Once most of the pain was gone he shifted into a panther, going for a run, shaking off the lingering ache and trying to collect himself, before returning to Billy in the shape of a dog once more, but with his mind racing. What had last night been? Was it a fluke? Had he just stopped without thinking about it before the pain started?

They continued to follow the trail, and Goodnight didn’t try shifting again, other than between dog and cat; and wolf for hunting.

~

Days and weeks passed and they stopped in a few settlements, sometimes just because Billy said he wanted to sleep in a proper bed, and sometimes to earn some more money. Summer slipped into Autumn at some point, and they were well on their way towards winter - not that it made much difference to the weather - when they came across an abandoned ranch house in west Arizona, or perhaps they had reached California, Goodnight wasn’t entirely sure.

“Let’s check it out,” Billy said, turning his horse towards the building, which looked almost ready to fall down on its own, part of the house seemed to have been torn down. Goodnight hurried ahead, all the scents he caught seemed old, and it satisfied his need to know there weren’t any surprises waiting for them.

They pulled the door open, and Billy shouted a “hello” just in case, but there was no reply. So they walked inside, Goodnight on Billy’s heels. The house had been emptied, either when whoever lived there left, or by other opportunistic people coming across it, it was after all not that far from the trail, visible on top of a hill.

Billy opened another door, and Goodnight caught a glimpse of a long stair down to a dark basement. Billy stepped through, letting go of the door which immediately started to close itself, a gust of wind from the outside coming through the still open front door, forced it the final bit. Goodnight jumped back with a surprised yelp as the door slammed shut in front of his muzzle, the force rattling the hatch on Goodnight’s side of the door.

Billy cursed and there was a rattling of the handle, but the door was locked, and didn’t unlock from both ways. Goodnight got up on his hind legs, resting his paws against the door he tried to pull down the door handle as well, but he couldn’t open it either, he’d need hands.

“Goody,” Billy shouted through the door. “I’m going to go down the stairs and see if there’s any other way out.”

Goodnight sprinted out of the house, and ran around it until the spotted two very narrow windows near the base of the house. He looked through them but all he saw was pitch black darkness, and they were definitely too narrow for Billy, he could tell right away. Running back inside he once again tried to open the handle with his mouth, claws scratching at the wood of the door, but it stayed stubbornly closed.

He sat down on the floor again, letting out a frustrated huff of breath.

“Goody,” Billy’s voice came floating from behind the door. “I can’t-”

Before Goodnight could think too much about it he shifted.

He gasped. Scents that had been oppressive and overwhelming a millisecond ago were suddenly not there at all, sounds seemed to be muffled. He coughed, lying on the floor he curled up around himself a little, tears stinging in his eyes and there was a tingling in his whole body. His whole, very much, human body. He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes, and oh, he had hands again. His arms trembled, as did his legs when he tried to sit up. He fell down again with a thud and a groan.

“Goody?” Came Billy’s concerned voice. And oh, Lord, Billy. He had to help him, that was why... That was why he changed. His mind felt strange, a hundred thoughts bombarding him at the same time. He managed to get to his hands and knees, a familiar posture, but now his hip and knees hurt, and the trembling in his arms and legs was still there.

Unsteady like a newborn foal he made it up onto his feet. Legs protesting and knees almost giving out underneath him, he stumbled against the door, hitting it with loud thud and groaning again. He steadied himself with a shoulder against the doorjamb and unlocked the door, throwing it open.

Billy was standing on the other side, his eyes widening comically in surprise.

Goodnight opened his mouth and tried to say something but all that happened was a croaked sound, and then he coughed. Billy stepped forward so that he was standing in the doorway, close to Goodnight.

“Goody?” Billy said. Goodnight wanted to answer but at that moment his body was wracked by a feeling close to being run over by a herd of cattle. He gasped and shouted, falling to the ground. His muscles spasming and flashes of white light in front of his eyes made him close them, but that didn’t really help. He fell to the ground, shaking and he thought he could feel hands on his body, but he wasn’t sure. He definitely felt the door hitting him as it tried to close again, and then strong hands gripped him under his armpits dragging him away from the door.

In his mind he grabbed for the first image he could get hold of, that of a cat, and quickly shifted into it. Curling up in a ball and mewling pitifully.

He was only vaguely aware of being picked up and carried away.

~

He woke up lying on Billy’s bed roll, far enough away from the house that Billy could no longer see it, his body still tingling with the memory of pain, and feeling tremendously embarrassed. He opened his eyes and spotted Billy a short distance away starting a fire.

“You back with me?” Billy asked without even looking in Goodnight’s direction. He wondered briefly if Billy had been asking that every now and again, or if he just somehow knew.

Goodnight remained silent and hunched in on himself, a general sense of unhappiness settling like a heavy stone in his gut, tail swaying back and forth.

Billy came over and sat down next to him, reaching out and Goodnight flinched away. Billy pulled his hand back, looking at Goodnight with a frown.

“You in pain?” Billy asked.

Goodnight shook his head.

“Good,” Billy said. Still looking at him. “Everything’s fine,” Billy said. Earnestly. “Or well, everything will be fine. You know I am happy to have you around no matter what shape you are in, and I’m not worth you hurting yourself over.”

Goodnight looked up at him and wanted to protest, because Billy was worth it. He wanted to be there for Billy in any way he could, even if it meant pain. Billy who had accepted Goodnight, who said he was happy they had met. Billy who had cared for Goodnight all the way from the beginning, even if it was reluctant and hesitant at first. There was a conviction deep inside of Goodnight’s chest which told him Billy was worth it, and he wanted to tell him, wanted to show him, but he didn’t know how.

~

“Does it always hurt to change?” Billy asked the next night, sitting by a new fire, and Goodnight, back in the shape of a dog, was lying next to him, Billy’s fingers carding through his fur. Goodnight shook his head.

“Only when you try to change into a human?”

Goodnight nodded.

“Did it always use to be that way?”

Goodnight shook his head, and Billy bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Is it a mental block of some kind?” BIlly asked. Goodnight sighed and put his head down between his paws. He didn’t know. Maybe? Sam had seemed to think it was, but the pain, it was a physical pain, he didn’t know where it came from or why or how.

“What happened the last time you were human?” Billy asked.

Goodnight let out an involuntary whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said, and even though he didn’t know, he sounded like he truly meant it, truly was sorry for Goodnight. He didn’t know if he deserved anyone feeling sorry for him. He certainly didn’t deserve Billy and his easy acceptance.

~

He tried a few times to shift to human over the next few days when they took a break or made camp, but every time he lost the nerve before he’d even started. But he started thinking about the last time he was human. About feeling like he deserved the beating he had gotten, because after all they hadn’t been wrong. He was a freak and an abomination, had been turned into a monster so what point was there in being human? 

But then he thought about Billy, how Billy looked at him with awe in his eyes when Goodnight shifted. How delighted and happy he seemed to be in Goodnight’s company. And Billy could read people, there had been settlements they’d stopped in where Billy would come right back out after walking inside a saloon. “Had a bad feeling about the crowd” he’d tell Goodnight. Yet, Billy didn’t seem to have a bad feeling about Goodnight, he trusted him. Even after finding out what Goodnight was.

Maybe Goodnight needed to trust himself again. He had been an animal for so long and yet still hadn’t gone completely feral, he couldn’t know if that was thanks to Billy’s influence, or if it was just his own mind staying strong even though he felt afraid of himself most of the time, and his fear made him think himself a weak coward.

The thoughts preoccupied his mind for days, until he just shifted without pain by pure accident.

He’d taken over most of Billy’s bed roll, while Billy was replacing a button on his shirt. Goodnight idly thinking he could do a better job, not that Billy was bad at it, it was just Goodnight was sure he could do it more efficiently. The idle thoughts had included imagining his own hands, and before he knew it he had shifted.

Goodnight gasped in surprise, as did Billy. Goodnight shifted back to a dog out of pure shock and not knowing what to do.

“What the hell,” Billy said confused and surprised. 

Feeling a bit embarrassed, surprised, happy, surprised at the happy feeling, and a little afraid. All of the contradicting emotions warring in his mind and making him act by impulse rather than putting any thought in it. Goodnight shifted to a wolf and took off.

He sat down on a large rock, after making sure he really was alone in the desert, only the stars and moon in the sky looking down on him

Was he ready to go back to being human?

If he could begin to think that maybe he wasn’t necessarily a monster, was he also ready to be a person again? It had been so long. He wasn’t sure he liked who he had been as a person the first time around. And all this time had he not just exposed himself to be a weak coward for not daring to try going back to being a human again?

And then he thought about all the things he missed about being a human, most of all being able to talk, and he made up his mind.

~ ~ ~

Billy knew Goody was coming back before he could see him, looking in the direction of the sound and spotting the dog stepping inside of the circle of light from the fire. Goody took a few steps forward before he stopped and shifted into a man, again. This time seemingly painless and Billy couldn’t help but stare at this completely naked man, all the pale skin and long graceful limbs were hard to look away from.

Goodnight took a few steps forward stumbling, and Billy shot up on his feet, starting towards him, to catch him if he fell. But Goody righted himself and walked up to Billy, and Billy walked to him.

They stopped in front of each other. Goodnight’s hair was wavy and wild, light brown and with streaks of grey, his beard shot through with even more grey was surprisingly well trimmed and neat. Goodnight smiled at him before taking Billy’s hand in his. A thrill shot up Billy’s spine.

“Enchante, mon cher,” Goodnight said. Billy had to suppress a surprised shiver at the sound of Goodnight’s voice, and could do nothing as Goodnight lifted BIlly’s hand towards his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Billy’s knuckles. Another shiver ran down Billy’s spine.

“Goodnight Robicheaux is my name.”

“You’re naked,” Billy said, deadpan.

Goodnight let out a surprised bark of laughter, and Billy was sure he had never heard another sound quite as wonderful in his whole life.

“So I am,” Goodnight said, with a smile which had Billy’s knees soften.

“I’m Billy Rocks.” He said. Realizing they were still holding each other’s hands in front of them, but Billy didn’t let go.

“I know,” Goodnight said.

Billy started backing towards his bed roll, tugging Goodnight along, and he followed. Billy couldn’t take his eyes away from Goodnight’s eyes, they were blue and he had seen them so many times before, but now they looked right, now they were where they belonged, in the face of this handsome man.

“I feel you already know everything about me,” Billy said. They managed to sit down on Billy’s bed roll, cross-legged and facing each other. Still holding each other by the hand and still BIlly looked into Goodnight’s eyes, fascinated by the depth. Seeing the intelligence he’d always seen in them in the past, but now seemingly ten fold and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. Billy glanced down at Goody’s lips and then back up.

“Can someone really know everything about their fellow man?” Goody asked.

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Billy said. “Everything.”

Goodnight’s warm happy smile widened.

“That will be my pleasure, Billy Rocks,” Goodnight said. Then paused. “Though, perhaps I could get a blanket first?”


End file.
